FUCK ME.I WATCHED THE powdered sugar land on her waiting tongue and all I could think about was what it would be like if it was drops of my cum instead of sugar painting her sweet lips.My reaction to this woman threatened to knock me completely sideways.I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, exacerbating the slight sting from her bite.
I’d intended to make it through the rest of our time together without touching her for anything other than to keep her from falling.She’d completely shot that plan to hell, backing her ass up against me and trying to top from the bottom.I was supposed to leave her wanting—begging me to touch her.Instead, I’d pushed her up against the wall and had her legs wrapped around my hips before I thought things through.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d lost control like that.Scratch that; I could.It was with her earlier in the day when I’d gone on my professional self-destructive spree and recused myself from the case I’d brought into the firm.I wasn’t done feeling the pain from that.I still had to explain it to Jared and the other partners.There wasn’t an excuse I could give that my friend wouldn’t see through.It didn’t matter.I held the beignet to Alexandra’s lips, told her to bite and watched her sharp white teeth sink into the pastry.Given the choice, I’d do the same thing all over again.But this time I’d be ready for her when she wielded her sexuality like a finely-honed sword, and she’d never get a chance to draw first blood.
Everything about her railed against giving in to being fed.I could read her conflict in the set of her shoulders and the tilt of her head.In the way her pulse beat against the slender column of her pale throat.She hated the idea of surrendering, of letting me take care of her, but she wanted it too.I imagined the conflict going on in her head was as voracious as the one I was experiencing.
Whether she’d admit it to herself or not, she’d submitted beautifully, with a lot less argument than I’d expected.If you ignored the biting, which was hard to ignore.I shifted in my chair, giving my perpetually hard cock more room.I’d started to feel like one of those four-hour warnings on erectile dysfunction commercials.I’d been hard since halfway through the deposition, and it showed every sign of getting worse before it got better.Watching Alexandra take the first tentative steps across her studio and then later out onto Saint Charles, seeing the way she braved something she was unsure of—the way she trusted me to keep her safe—made me want to push every boundary she had and see how far she’d let us take things.And it made me want her more than was rational.
“Any chance you ordered coffee?”she said, licking the powdered sugar from her lips.
Feeding her wasn’t going the way I’d hoped.Her cheeks were flushed, and I’d bet more money than I paid for this session with her that her nipples were hard.And her pussy wet.She wanted this—wanted me—but she’d laced her tone with enough bored indulgence to tell me she wasn’t focused on the sensations around her, not completely.If she spent too much time in that gorgeous head of hers, I’d lose whatever temporary advantage I’d managed to gain.
I weighed my options.She’d play along with eating out of my hand because regardless of what I still had to learn about Dr.Smithson, I knew without a doubt, she didn’t lose.Not if she could help it.We had that in common.For now, she saw her submission as a kind of winning—a false kind maybe and not the kind I hoped she would by the time we were finished, but enough that she’d play along and not feel anything genuine.I already knew she had no problem shedding her clothes and precious little trouble with public displays of intimacy.The ones that had nothing to do with genuine intimacy.
I could get her to slip her panties off under the table, maybe even bring her to the edge of orgasm with my hand, but I doubted if any of that would make her feel truly vulnerable.Sex was a currency she traded in.I wanted more.And despite my better judgment, I found myself wanting to look into her eyes, to watch her react to the beauty around us.
“Hello?Coffee?”
“It’s sitting in front of you.”
The crease in her forehead deepened, and she blew out a breath, clearly frustrated.When she slid her hand carefully over the linen-covered table, I caught her fingertips, stopping her.
“Let me guess.You want to hold the cup.”
Brat.I didn’t give a fuck about the cup.I wanted to take care of her.To offer her something from my hand and have her take it willingly.Eagerly.I wanted something real.
“Take off my tie.”
I felt her fingers stiffen against my palm as if I’d asked her to strip naked.She pulled free of my hand and reached for the blindfold, pausing when her fingertips brushed the silk.
“This isn’t the same as safewording, right?I’m not giving up?”
She acted as if she was concerned about losing a bet.She may as well have saidgiving in.Surrendering.Losing.I could tell she thought they were all the same thing.The realization made me sad, which was its own special kind of fucked up.
“No, kitten, you’re notsafewording.Not unless you want to.”
She shook her head and then made quick work of the knot at the back of her head.When she pulled the silk away from her eyes, she blinked, her eyes going wide as she took in our surroundings.
“This is lovely,” she said, her voice taking on a slightly breathless quality that made me want to find other ways to steal her breath.
Given her line of work—or perhaps because of it—she seemed out of touch with her desire.She wielded her sexuality with a cutting precision that left little room for simple sensual pleasure.With the exception of the rush that came from holding power, I wasn’t sure her pleasure had any place at all in the way she experienced sex.Wanting to change that bumped itself to the top of my list of priorities.She might appear experienced to the point of being jaded but I had a feeling when it came to honestly experiencing genuine pleasure, Alexandra was a virgin.I wanted to be the one to share it with her.
We were seated at a small garden table in one of the private alcoves.We were the only ones in the open air courtyard but it wouldn’t have mattered if we weren’t.Only members and their guests had access to the space and no one who made it past the front door would talk about what happened on the other side.Madame Arlene’s was a hidden gem with a very exclusive clientele: my partners at the firm and the club, a few local politicians, and the occasional business leader.Membership was invitation only and had more to do with discretion and power than personal wealth, although I doubted anyone without considerable means had ever been offered a spot.
The club didn’t offer anything a five-star hotel wouldn’t.In addition to the café we were sitting in, there were a few smaller rooms that could be converted to private dining rooms and a handful of lavishly appointed guest suites upstairs.What Madame Arlene provided was much more valuable than superior service and luxury.She gave members a place to meet with whoever they wanted—no questions asked, no possibility of the press stealing a photograph.For some, it was a place to have clandestine meetings with mistresses or for the few women members, the male equivalent, without leaving a pesky paper trail the divorce attorneys could find.
For me, it had been a place to bring submissives, where we could push boundaries outside places like Bacchus without risking either of us being exposed in a way we didn’t want.I hadn’t brought a submissive to Arlene’s since Julie.Bringing Alexandra was a bigger step than I’d expected to take with her that day—hell, ever.My initial intention had been to show her all the many ways she’d fucked up, give her a taste of real submission and go back to my regular life while someone else at my firm finished the lawsuit, and I finished thinking about the arrogant woman who thought she could teach something she didn’t believe in.
